


Better Discipline

by treefriend92



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Play, Blood Elves, F/M, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8197865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treefriend92/pseuds/treefriend92
Summary: Daeyna, an elvish warrior, gets an unconventional quest reward, and a bit of payback, from two wayward pupils on her way through the Eversong Forest.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Swift Discipline](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/232642) by World of Warcraft. 



> This is a re-write of the existing questline, Swift Discipline, for the blood elves in World of Warcraft.

It was a beautiful day in the Eversong Woods, and Daeyna couldn’t help but appreciate the first rays of a soft, golden sunset as she tromped through the forest, ablaze in shades of hot-orange and whisper-white. Perhaps that was what made the sight of the Dead Scar so unnerving. The autumn grass died abruptly, unable to find root in the scorched and blackened earth. It was eerily quiet, but for the soft clack of something in the foggy distance. Here, the Dead Scar remained in the rebuilt Quel’Thelas, a reminder to all of what the Undead Scourge had done to their people—and to their beautiful forest.

Taking an uncertain step forward, Daeyna began to make her way through the Blight to the forest on the other side. The bones of fallen ally and undead alike decorated her footpath as she picked her way through the scraggly scrub.

A sound in the distance sent her heart racing, and she drew her sword just in time to plunge her blade through the gut of a rotting, reanimated corpse. The unholy abomination staggered forward toward her, but she shifted to the left, carrying through the motion and slashing again. Its head teetered on its neck for a moment before tumbling onto the ground with a soft thump. Daeyna sheathed her weapon and took a step back, staring in disgust at the creature at her feet. Alas, there was no use in wasting pity on the undead.

Making her way through the scar, she came across a few more undead, killing each one and looting them of the few copper they still carried. By the time she came to the end of the Blight, her blood was humming in her veins; Daeyna was disappointed when it finally came time to sheathe her sword once more.

Her family had been wrong, she mused to herself as she stepped back into the forest. It had been a good idea to leave home in search of adventure. Taking a deep breath, Daeyna quickened her pace, on the lookout for enemies in need of slaughter—or allies in need of assistance.

Rounding a soft hill, she spotted what looked like just that. Another blood elf, draped in red robes, was twisting his hands anxiously beside an overturned wagon. When he spotted her, he brightened, waving to flag her down.

“Hail!” he called out, his brow furrowed with concern. “Please, help me!” Daeyna jogged the last few meters, skidding to a halt in front of him.

Books were scattered around the wagon, intermingled with pieces of the broken crate they must have fallen from. “What happened here?” Daeyna asked, taking in the scene before her. “Did you have an accident?”

“No, no, no,” the other elf sputtered impatiently. Daeyna could just barely smell a touch of liquor on his breath. Was the man intoxicated? “I am Ralen.”

“Daeyna,” she replied with a friendly smile, raising an eyebrow at a pile of brown glass bottles beneath a nearby tree. “So, what actually _did_ happen, then?”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Ralen went back to wringing his hands before he answered. “My friend, Meledor, and I were performing an errand for my master when we were attacked by thieves.” Motioning around at the mess, Ralen’s face crumpled. “The thieves made off with our master’s belongings, and Meledor gave chase.” Worry darkened his gaze, and Ralen reached out for Daeyna’s hands. “Please, fair warrior. You must follow him further down the road and assist him. You look well-suited for the task. I have a bit of silver,” he added in a nervous rush. “I-I can compensate you for your trouble.”

Poor Ralen looked truly distressed, and Daeyna had never been one to turn down a quest—or good silver. “Of course, friend,” she assured him.  “I will set out now and look for Meledor. We’ll catch the thieves and set this all to right, you’ll see.”

Managing a brave little smile, Ralen nodded. “I am sure you will,” he agreed before pointing down the road. “Go then, quickly, before Meledor is hurt, or worse.”

 

Daeyna could hear the quiet trickle of the river before she saw it. Another hill blocked her view, but when she crested it, she immediately spotted what must be Ralen’s companion. Fair-haired and beautiful, he paced anxiously back and forth beside the river bank, every so often giving the waters below an anguished glance.

So engrossed in his pacing was he that he didn’t notice Daeyna until she was a mere foot away. “Sinu a'manore,” she greeted him, stifling a grin when the other elf jumped a good foot in the air, whirling around to face her.

“Oh!” he cried out, drawing his hand dramatically to his chest. “Bal'a dash, malanore.” The familiar greeting was automatic, as the elf seemed to grow more distressed by the moment. Tearstains streaked his high cheekbones, and he sniffed sadly before offering her a slight bow. “Forgive me for my lapse in manners. I was concerned it was those wretched thieves back to torment me again.”

Shaking her head, Daeyna offered him a sympathetic smile. “No, it’s only me. I’m here to help you, in fact. Your friend, Ralen, sent me to save you.” Looking around, she shrugged, shifting her weight in the muddy grass. “It doesn’t seem like you need much saving.”

Meledor drew a red sleeve across his face, his full lips pouting. “No, I suppose not. Once the thieves realized all they had stolen was books and parchment, they dumped their prize into the river, and ran off.” Pointing to the water, Meledor’s beautiful face crumpled again. “This is the absolute most terrible day! I can hardly bear it!”

Offering what she could only hope was a comforting pat, Daeyna gingerly asked, “So what is the problem then? You seem to be safe enough. Just go back and help your friend clean up.”

Taking a great, heaving breath, Meledor shook his head, his golden hair shimmering in the light. “No, you see, my master’s most important book, his personal grimoire, was among the items stolen. The th-thieves threw it into the river,” he explained again, his lower lip quivering dangerously. “Now, I cannot find it, and the sun will soon be set. The book will be ruined, and my master will be furious.”

“Why not simply look for it?” she suggested.

Meledor gave the river a worried look. “Well, you see, the bank is so steep, and muddy. I could slip, and hurt myself. And besides,” he added, “I do not want to get my robes wet.” Shooting her a sly glance, he bit his lip before continuing. “But _you_ could fetch my master’s grimoire. Such a strong warrior must have sharp eyes, and I could use a second set to find the book. Please, uh… er…” he stumbled over her name.

“Daeyna,” she provided helpfully.

“Please, Daeyna,” he continued, shooting her a wide, beaming smile. “Please help me. I would be forever in your debt, and I could pay you—double whatever Ralen offered. I promise.”

Returning the smile, Daeyna nodded up at him. “Of course. I understand. Some of us are warriors, and some of us are scholars. You stay here on the bank where it’s dry. I’ll fetch your book.”

Tugging her chain hauberk off over her head, she stretched her muscles before wading into the river. The ice-cold water hit her skin like a thousand needles, instantly soaking her through and through. Before she could change her mind, she dove into the center of the river. Swimming forward, Daeyna peered through the murky water for something tome-like.

It seemed an eternity—and she had to surface three times for air—but finally her fingers brushed against something that wasn’t a slime-covered rock, or a handful of vegetation. Grabbing the book firmly, she clutched it to her chest and kicked for the surface, gulping in air when she burst out of the water.

“Did you find it?” Meledor called from the grass, watching on with a worried expression.

Grinning proudly, she sloshed out of the river and clambered up onto the bank. Wiping mud and grass off the cover, she thrust her prize forward. “There you go. Your master’s book is safe.”

“Safe?” he wailed, taking the book gingerly. “This is not what I would consider safe! It is soaking wet, and covered in mud.” Grimacing, Meledor tried to use his sleeve to scrub the cover clean. “This book is ruined!”

Daeyna stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Yes, Meledor,” she answered slowly, in case the man truly was dim-witted. “It was thrown into a river. Of course it will be wet and muddy.”

“If my master finds out I lost his book to thieves, and that it was ruined, he will flay me alive!” Worry clouded his face again. “This is terrible. Horrendous. Oh, I cannot believe this is happening to me.”

Daeyna perched her hands on her hips. Two drunk acolytes and a wasted afternoon later, and she was no closer to the sanctuary. “While you do have my deepest sympathies,” Daeyna replied dryly, “I believe I was promised payment.”

“Right,” he drew out awkwardly, glancing between the book and the ground. “About that. I do not think you really deserve payment. After all, _I_ am no closer to getting out of trouble with my master.”

“What?” Daeyna exclaimed. Taking an aggressive step forward, she poked him square in the chest. “Listen here, I was promised by you and your friend that if I helped you, you’d pay me. This was a waste of a quest anyway. The least you could do is float me a couple damn silver!”

By the time she was finished, she was shouting, but she didn’t care. “I-I see your point,” he agreed with a nod, “I really do, but you see, you did not help me.” It was all Daeyna could do to keep her hands from around his throat, so she just stared at him, gape-mouthed. “But I know how you could help me. And if you do this, I promise, I promise, I shall pay you!” he rushed out at the look on her face. “Just go to my master and give him the book. Do not say a word, just give it to him. He shall _blame_ you, but he has no jurisdiction to actually _punish_ you.” If Meledor noticed her flared nostrils or furious breathing, he made no mention of it. Pushing the book into her arms, he gave her another heart-stopping grin. Something told Daeyna that smile had gotten him out of a lot of trouble—but today was not that day. “Please, Daeyna. If you do this for us, you shall get your silver. I promised you I would pay you if you help, right?” Clamping her mouth shut, Daeyna gave him a terse nod. “So do something to actually help, and you shall get paid.” The spoiled brat seemed oblivious to how infuriating every word that came from his lips was, continuing to blather on sunnily, even as she dripped river water at his feet. “Even a sword-toting warrior such as yourself must understand how this works.” Taking on a gruff tone, he furrowed his brow and puffed out his chest. “You big strong warrior. You do quest. You get gold.” Relaxing again, he tapped the cover of the book. “Trust me, you do not strike me as the book type. My master will not suspect a thing,” he added with a little chuckle. “Thank you so much, Daeyna. You truly are the most noble of warriors.”

Grumbling beneath her breath, Daeyna bit her tongue, and turned toward her bags, before she instructed him on exactly what he could do with the damn book. Stowing the ruined grimoire in her backpack, she slung the bag over her shoulder, and turned back down the path.

“Master Antheol is past the Dead Scar!” Meledor called out to her retreating back. “Teaching a class on the banks of the Stillwater Pond!”

 

Marching down the path, leaving a wet trail in her wake, Daeyna barely took notice of anything but for the fantasy of revenge. “Daeyna!” Ralen called out when she passed him. “Did you find Meledor? Did you retrieve my master’s belongings?”

Paying him no heed, she continued on with single-minded purpose. Any undead foolish enough to stand in her way died a swift death at the end of her blade. Twilight was settling over the forest by the time she could see the outskirts of the village, but even the oncoming night would not dissuade her.

 

Just as Meledor had promised, a middle-aged elf, also adorned in red and sporting exquisite gold jewelry, was lecturing to a group of wide-eyed students, close to her own age. Approaching him on the dais he stood on, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “Master,” she muttered reverently, holding the book above her head. “Forgive me for the interruption.”

The dais was silent as Antheol turned to face her. He watched her for a long moment before speaking. “Whatever the reason for your impudence, I pray it is a good one,” he finally announced imperiously, sweeping forward and snatching the book from her hands. “Why, this is… this grimoire belongs to me!” he exclaimed. Reaching down for her chin, he lifted it so that she faced him. Narrowing his glowing green eyes at her, he shook his head in confusion. “How did you come upon this, young elf? And why are you, and my book, soaking wet?” Frowning down at the book, he heaved a sigh. “At any rate, my grimoire is destroyed. The ink is already running.” Peeling the wet pages apart, he confirmed his hypothesis with a disappointed nod before returning his attention back to her. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he demanded impatiently. “Explain yourself!”

The story came out in a rush, and by the end of it, she was furious all over again. The look on Master Antheol’s face told her that this behavior was not at all uncommon of the two young elves. “So my wayward students have failed me once more?” Antheol drawled, staring at the dejected-looking grimoire with disgust. “And they have sent you to lie for them?” A smug, self-pleased grin stretched his face. “You made the right decision by telling me the truth. Rise, Daeyna.” Turning, he swept gracefully to his podium, rummaging beneath it for something before returning. “Here,” he offered, dropping a small sack of coins into her hand. A quick peek in the bag revealed a few fat silver coins glinting amongst the bright copper. “For your trouble, and your soaking. Now,” Master Antheol continued conspiratorially, “if you’re interested, I have another quest for you, and I think you’ll find this one to be more to your liking.”

The mischievous glint in the master’s eye was heartening. He turned away again, this time returning with a staff, affixed with a small golden orb, about the size of a walnut. It seemed ordinary enough, but Daeyna could feel the power of the object when he handed it to her. The students, who had remained stoic and silent up to that point, collectively shuddered at the sight of the staff. “This,” he began with a grim smile, “is my punishment rod. If you would do the honor of finding my students and punishing them, I will pay you another silver for your trouble.”

“And what does it do, exactly?” she asked, running her hand down the smooth ivory staff.

“You’ll see,” Antheol replied cryptically. “Off with you, then. Return when you have punished my disobedient pupils as you see fit.”

Giving the older elf a quick nod, she turned back toward the east, already looking forward to what the master had in store.

 

This time, when she crossed the Dead Scar, she was nearly skipping with excitement. Daeyna found Ralen huddled beside the wagon, just as she’d left him. In his hands was a small lantern, and its warm light illuminated his face in the fading twilight. “Daeyna!” he exclaimed when he spotted her. “You’re back! So, how did it go? Did you get us out of trouble?”

The hopeful expression on his face would have tempered her rage, but the sight of _another_ brown bottle had fury coursing through her veins again. “You know, our people are fighting to keep this wild magic at bay, and you’re drinking and carousing rather than helping!” she burst out, clenching her fist around the Rod of Punishment. “Then, you have the gall to send me to do your dirty work!” Brandishing the staff at him, she was pleased to see him go pale at the sight of it. “Well, it turns out your master is wise to your tricks, and he’s sent me to give you your due.”

“Oh, no, no, no, please, I-I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble!” Ralen howled, skirting around a pile of crates, holding his hands out to protect himself from her wrath. Daeyna didn’t care about his pleas, advancing on him with rod in hand. “I’ll pay you! Anything!”

“You haven’t got any damn money!” she bellowed furiously, sending his lantern crashing to the ground when she gave it an enraged slap. “You haven’t got anything! All you have is a spoiled sense of entitlement and a bunch of stupid books!”

Raising the staff above her head, she ignored his wails and cries and brandished it toward him. A puff of smoke exploded from the point of magical impact, and when it cleared, Daeyna could scarcely believe her eyes. Breaking down into breathless laughter, she could hardly see the tusked pig through her tears, but it was enough.

Snorting and snuffling in distress, Ralen the Boar tromped around in a circle, and let out one last miserable squeal before streaking off into the forest as fast as his piggy legs would carry him. Daeyna’s laughter carried after him, and she gave the staff a satisfied nod before moving on toward the elf that deserved punishing the most.

 

Meledor was perched daintily upon a rock by the bridge, waiting exactly where she’d left him earlier. Night had fallen around them in earnest, setting the valley alive with a brilliant firefly display, but Daeyna took no notice. The soft grass barely whispered beneath her boots as she approached the other elf, creeping through the forest stealthily.

“Meledor,” she called out softly, drawing up behind him, clutching the staff behind her back just as she had before. “I’ve returned with news from your master.”

“Truly? You have done as I asked?” Twisting around on the rock, Meledor gazed up at her hopefully, his eyes burning like twin emerald coals in the darkness. “And he did not question you? My master will not punish me for destroying his book?”

Daeyna reached out for his face, stroking her callused thumb across his soft cheek. “No, Meledor, he will not punish you.” Gripping his chin in her hand, hard, she forced him to his feet. Before he could ask, his handsome visage crumpled with confusion, she brought forth the familiar staff. “Instead, he sent me.”

Dropping to his knees, Meledor shook his head like a water-logged dragon hatchling. “No, please Daeyna, you must understand. I meant you no harm.”

“So your stupid friend said,” she snarled, dragging her leg away from him when he tried to cling to her. “It did not save him, and it will not save you. I must admit, Meledor, I think you will make a fine pig,” she mused aloud, aiming the Rod of Punishment at Meledor’s face. “Perhaps I shall keep you, to sell at market.” Tears welled up in his eyes, and spilled over his cheeks.

“P-p-please, my fairest lady, I beg of you, do not use that wretched instrument of torture upon me. I cannot bear to be a pig,” he pleaded. “I detest being a pig. Why, I was only turned into a pig two weeks past. I will do anything, pay anything. I will owe you a life debt. Anything. _Anything_ ,” he repeated emphatically, clutching at her leg.

“Truly,” Daeyna drew out dryly, “it is not much of a transformation. I might even consider it an improvement.”

Nodding frantically, Meledor clawed up her hips to grasp at her hauberk. “You are too correct, my fairest lady. I am worse than a pig. Still, I beg of you, punish me in any other way. I will die if I am turned to a pig again. I cannot bear it. I know I have learned my lesson, my lady,” he assured her, his eyes wide as he bobbed his head. “I will never again lie or trick someone. I will be a good apprentice. I will work hard. You see kneeling here before you a changed elf, my lady. I am ready and willing for my penance, but please, please—not a pig.”

Biting her lip, she cocked her head, considering him. His heartfelt pleas only made her want to turn him into a pig all the more, but something gave her pause. “ _Any_ thing?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Anything at all?”

“Anything,” he confirmed seriously. “Flog me, burn me, hang me by my toes from that tree,” he suggested, helpfully pointing out a nearby one for her to use. “Anything but turn me into a disgusting, filthy, fungus-eating pig. I would rather die.”

It was the Rod of Punishment itself that inspired her next line. “Stand up.” Confusion flitted across his face, but he did as she asked. Grabbing him by the arm, she dragged him unceremoniously away from the path, dropping her bags by a nearby bush. Stripping her hauberk off for the second time that day, she let the chain mail slither to the ground beside her packs. “Take that off,” she instructed, using the Rod of Punishment to flip the hem of his robe up. A knowing smile twisted his lips as he realized what she had in mind. Bunching the robe in his fists, he pulled it up slowly, revealing first his toned calves, then mouth-watering thighs. “And those,” she added, tearing her eyes away from his bare chest to motion to his cotton drawers.

Even half-erect, his cock was long and thick. It twitched with interest, growing before her very eyes when he wrapped his long, elegant fingers around the head to push his foreskin back. “Are you ready to punish me, then, my lady?” he asked, stroking himself lazily as he watched her. It was clear from his arrogant smirk he knew he was the picture of elfin beauty and grace—not that she cared how smug he was.

Daeyna was going to get her reward for this quest, one way or the other. “Get on your hands and knees,” she demanded. He clambered down into the grass, watching her with hooded eyes. Once down, he leaned forward and dropped his belly, stretching out like a cat to show his body off for her.

After a quick glance around to be absolutely sure no one could see them from the road, Daeyna hunkered down behind him. Running her hand over his bottom, she sighed wistfully, shifting as a sharp, familiar ache settled in deep inside her body. Popping the golden orb into her mouth, she got it wet, then her index finger. Goosebumps erupted over Meledor’s flesh when she pressed her finger against his anus, then slid it inside, slowly. Curling her finger up, she stroked his prostate gently, letting an indulgent smile stretch her face when he moaned sensuously. Once she’d gotten a second finger in, she withdrew them both.

Pressing the golden orb of the Rod of Punishment against his ass, she pushed it inside, chuckling wickedly when he cried out. A Thalassian curse puffed out from betwixt his lips, his muscles quivering as he knelt perfectly still in the grass.

Slowly, like ice melting on a hot summer day, Meledor finally relaxed, moving his hips in a hypnotic rhythm. With her hands finally free, Daeyna could unwind the linen strip that held her breasts flat against her chest, leaving her skin bare to the breeze. She reached around to grasp Meledor’s cock, sinking her teeth into his buttock. He thrust into her hand, leaving her with little to do but admire his beautiful body and enjoy his loud, enthusiastic moans and gasps.

It took only a few minutes before he went even stiffer, trembling like a leaf, before a breathless whisper of passion escaped his lips. Daeyna watched avidly as milky white cum squirted from the tip of his cock in four spurts before he collapsed onto the ground.

The staff came out of his ass with a quiet little ‘pop’, and Meledor let out a pent-up breath in a rush. Daeyna’s hands were shaking as she unbuckled her belt, kicking off her boots and sliding her pants down her thighs. A long thread of wet arousal stretched between her pants and her pussy—she’d drenched them in her excitement. The ache had been replaced by hypersensitivity and a desperate hunger that demanded an answer.

Thankfully, Daeyna didn’t even have to instruct him. Meledor grabbed her hips in his hands and dragged her down with him into the grass, sinking his fingers into her thighs as he spread them apart.

Her nipples puckered at the sensation of his tongue against her wet lips, and a soft whimper escaped her others before she could quiet herself. Meledor’s pace was slow, leisurely even, taking his time with her pussy in his mouth and his tongue against her clit.

Even so, not much time had passed before she was breathing faster. Clenching her teeth, Daeyna didn’t notice she was ripping the grass from the ground as she struggled to deny her body the release it so desperately wanted. “Slow down,” she begged breathlessly, letting the grass go to dig her nails into his back. Obediently, he slowed his pace farther still, dragging his flat tongue across the landscape of her pussy like they were old lovers. It wasn’t enough. The world seemed to collapse around her as her muscles clenched, sending the sensation rippling out from the epicenter of her body, washing her in waves of warm pleasure.

Daeyna didn’t realize she’d had her eyes closed until she wrenched them open, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat and her breathing in staccato.

Propping his head up on his hand, Meledor watched her smugly as she struggled to catch her breath. “So, are we even then?” he asked sweetly. “I am sure my master paid you for your betrayal, and unless my eyes deceive me, you have gotten all you could have ever hoped for from me.”

Snorting indelicately, Daeyna struggled to sit up, reaching out to grip a shapely thigh. “ _I’m_ the one meting out this punishment,” she murmured softly, suddenly shy, sitting naked in the grass before him. “It’s your job to take it.”

“Ah, yes, my _punishment_ ,” he agreed with a soft laugh. “I think I prefer your discipline to my master’s.” Walking her fingers farther up his thigh, they both watched as she slid her fingers around his cock. “More punishment?” he asked hoarsely, still watching her as she dipped down to run her tongue along the length of his shaft. Meledor was young, and virile, and it did not take much coaxing from her warm mouth to get him to respond to her. “Mm,” he moaned, threading his fingers in her hair. “Yes, as far as punishments go, this one is my favorite.”

Smiling around his cock, Daeyna dropped down until her throat closed around him, making up the rest of the distance with her hand wrapped around the base. The sound of her name, mumbled roughly into the clearing, had a new throb forming between her thighs. Replacing her mouth with her hand, she admired his thick erection, pushing him onto his back. Shifting over so his shoulder leaned against the smooth, white tree trunk, Meledor watched as she stroked her hand up and down his shaft. Crawling up to straddle his hips, she let the head of his cock press against her slick opening. Sinking his perfect, white teeth into his lower lip, he gazed up at her, waiting with seemingly baited breath for her next move.

A groan left them in canon as she sank down onto him, impaling herself with a satisfied sigh. Meledor reached up to cup one of her breasts in his hand, flicking his thumb over her nipple. Rising up over him, she steadied herself with his shoulders, admiring his build even as he filled her. Daeyna was sure she wouldn’t be able to take him, but in her wet, wicked state of arousal she could just manage. The bittersweet bite of pain each time he thrust his hips up into her body sent a wave of goosebumps across her flesh. “You are so tight,” he burst out in a strained whisper, digging his fingertips into her hips. “And so damn wet.”

“Dare you complain?” she panted breathlessly, sliding her hands across his smooth skin.

“Not a complaint,” he assured her. “Not at all.”

Every time he slid his cock up into her body, he elicited a satisfied little moan from her. Daeyna reached her hand down between her thighs, touching her sensitive clit gingerly, jumping when she made contact. The clench of her body around him forced the breath from Meledor’s lungs, but he recovered quickly to brush her fingers aside. Daeyna’s nipples were puckered into two twin peaks, trembling with the rest of her as a now-familiar sensation washed over her all over again. Smiling through the orgasm, she let out a contented sigh when her body finally relaxed around him.

Wrapping his arms around the small of her back, Meledor pulled her onto his chest. Daeyna yelped, falling forward into his arms and giggling when he rolled them both over. The soft, cool grass pressed against her skin, tickling her arms and legs as Meledor settled on top of her. He nudged her legs open, reaching down to align his cock with her pussy before thrusting into her once more. Warm and satisfied, Daeyna wrapped her legs around his hips and buried her face in his neck. The satisfying pressure of him filling her body managed to coax another flurry of moans and sighs from her lips, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. Meledor covered her mouth with his own, kissing her with passionate enthusiasm as he thrust into her again and again, in rhythm with the sounds of the forest around them. “Where do you want it?” he asked roughly against her ear, laughing when she expressed her confusion. “It will not be long before I…” he broke off, smiling against her lips before continuing. “I did not think you would want it inside of you.”

The strain in Meledor’s voice belied the levity of his words. Perspiration covered his muscular back, and he stopped moving again, struggling to catch his breath as he propped his forehead against hers. “Wherever it is, you’re going to lick it off when you’re done,” she warned him lazily, winding her fingers through his silky, golden hair. In stark contrast to her own languorous pleasure, he was nearly frantic, every muscle in his body strained.

“Damn it,” he cursed, going stiff in her arms. He stayed perfectly still like that for a long moment, shaking violently. Finally, a tight groan escaped his lips and he pulled himself out of her body, erupting against her belly.

“Now eat it off,” Daeyna demanded hoarsely, pointing to the mess on her stomach. “Or else you’ll spend the rest of the night rooting for truffles.” Dipping his head to her abdomen, Meledor obediently lapped his own cum off her skin, watching her watch him, making sure to get every last drop. “Good boy,” she crooned, cupping his face in her hands and dragging him back up to capture his mouth in a kiss.

“Have I convinced you to stay my master’s intended punishment?” Meledor asked silkily when they broke apart. A shiver ran down her spine when he gave her neck a savage little bite.

“I suppose so,” Daeyna drawled, reluctantly disentangling her limbs from his. “Since I so thoroughly punished you. It’s only fair.” Reaching for her leather trousers, she stood and turned to finish dressing, pausing only once to touch her fingertips to the love bite on her neck.

 

Once she was dressed and armed again, she turned to him with her palm outstretched. “And the silver you promised me?” Daeyna prodded, grinning when he reluctantly plopped another bag of coins into her hand, a wry smile on his lips. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Meledor,” she chirped, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Hopefully you’ve learned a lesson about telling lies and tricking people.”

Nodding earnestly, he reached out to pick a blade of grass from her hair. “Of course. You can rest assured I have learned an important, ahem,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “lesson. Your punishment really sank in.”

Recalling their tryst beneath the trees, Daeyna felt her cheeks grow hot. “Make sure it stays sunken in.” With nothing else to say, she turned to leave, her face on fire.

“Wait,” Meledor said, grabbing Daeyna by the arm before she could walk away. “Be careful,” he warned, his brows drawn together with concern. “It is dangerous out there. I do not want to find out such a beautiful elf has died to Alliance scum.”

“Right,” she answered with a small nod. “You, too. Watch your back.” If it were possible, Daeyna felt her face go hotter still. “Shorel'aran.”

“Al diel shala, fair warrior,” he answered in kind, finally releasing her wrist, and taking a step back into the darkness.

Turning toward the bridge, Daeyna had no intentions of turning back for a last glance at her lover, but before she could cross it, she heard a familiar squeal from the clearing behind her. Whirling around just in time, she saw another cloud of smoke before poor Ralen appeared before Meledor, stark naked. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, but it’s hard to navigate as a pig. Did that sword-swinging wench get you, too?”

“Oh, yes, of course Ralen, dear,” Meledor assured him blithely. “The woman had her revenge on me, as well. My time spent as a pig was most unpleasant.”

Rolling her eyes, Daeyna decided against interjecting and continued over the bridge. Besides, she thought to herself, as their voices faded away into the darkness, she had a pocketful of silver, was pleasantly sore, and completely satisfied.

All in all, it turned out to be a good quest, after all.


End file.
